"Yeah." He cocked a hip against a long worktable and looked at her, amused. "Should I go lock it?"

"Yes! And hurry." Breathless, she moved toward him, scanning the walls for windows. She knew the bolt on the door wouldn't hold and with some crazy notion of pushing one of his benches in front of the doors, she started clearing one of them off, shoving some things to the floor. "Where're Zach and Jason?"

Cam raised those golden eyebrows of his until they disappeared into the lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead. "Riding. They'll be gone awhile yet if there's any justice."

"Good," Haley said in relief, struggling with a rage and a grief so great she could hardly contain it. She would not be the cause of any more deaths. Especially not these people, the first to care about her in too long to remember. Moving closer, she hoped Cam knew how to shoot, since she had no idea how herself. But he was a cowboy, and all cowboys knew how to shoot-didn't they?

"We have to hurry," she told him, surprised when he laughed and didn't move.

"Darlin', I never hurry. But I suppose, you being a lady and all, I could try to oblige you."

The sensual, husky laziness his voice had taken on would have warned a more sophisticated, experienced woman, but not Haley. "Okay, good," she said quickly. "I have something to tell you, Cameron. This isn't going to be easy."

"Well, I have to admit, it's been a while since I- Since my barn days," he finished tactfully, his meaning completely escaping her. He glanced at the bench she'd just cleared. "Uh, it's pretty dirty in here, Haley."

She narrowed her eyes and, for the first time, really looked at him. In his gaze, which had landed unerringly on her, was a mixture of hopeful speculation and amused disbelief. And yes, the heavy-lidded look of arousal. She realized with horror that they were absolutely not talking about the same thing.

But then something else-something even worse-occurred to her. "What is that?" she demanded, pointing at the thing in his hand.

He held up the tool. It looked suspiciously like a… gun. Oh, no.

"It's my nail gun," he said. He bent over his table to a long piece of smooth wood and pulled the trigger.

Bam, bam, bam.

The ache in her stomach escalated into a dull pain.

"See?" He lifted his head and smiled. "I'm making shelves."

"I see," she managed to say, weakly. She leaned on the bench she'd just cleared. "I've… gotta go now." She turned back toward the barn doors. There was no gunman, no one after her. And she'd just made an ass of herself in front of the one man who could alter her pulse.

"Haley?"

She didn't, or rather, couldn't, answer. She heard him drop his tool belt and head for her, so she sped up. But he still stopped her before she could open the bolt. She refused to look at him until he gently turned her to him and lifted her chin.

His gaze searched her face. "Obviously you weren't just seducing me in my barn."

She shook her head, and now her heart raced again, but for a different reason entirely. "No."

His smile was wry and self-deprecating. "I have to say, it was the most appealing almost-offer I've ever had. I'll never look at that table in quite the same way again."

She tried to step back and encountered the barn door. She didn't know much about these things, but his disappointment was palpable. Wasn't there a rule against turning a man on and then trying to withdraw?

He moved back, his smile still easy and charming, and Haley breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn't push.

"So what did you barrel in here about, if it wasn't to toss me down on my workbench and have your merry way with me?"

He was teasing her-she could tell by his sparkling dark eyes-and she didn't know how to handle that. "I-" It seemed so stupid now. I thought someone was trying to kill you. "Nothing."

His gaze shuttered, cooled so fast it startled her. He didn't believe her, that was clear. She didn't blame him for finally showing suspicion. But that he'd waited until she'd obviously lied disturbed her. He'd been willing to give her the benefit of the doubt-that is, until she'd proved she wasn't worthy of it.

She forced a smile. "I just wondered what you do out here."

"I make furniture."

She glanced around, realizing that while they stood inside what was once a barn, it had been converted into a studio of sorts. Long workbenches ran the length of the place, each scattered with tools, wood and partially put-together projects, including the shelving unit he'd been working on when she'd burst in.

"I thought you were a rancher."

"My brothers are." His voice, so warm and friendly only a minute before, seemed brusque now. He shifted away and moved back to his bench, running a loving hand along the wood that even her untrained eye could see was beautiful, bare oak. He gave the wood a gentle pat that conveyed his feelings better than words ever could. "Ranching seems like too much work for me."

"Too much work?"

He shrugged. "I'd rather do this. It's… easier. More fun."

This was something Haley couldn't understand. She'd been bred to work, and had loved it with a passion she could hardly explain-especially to a man such as this. But she'd never thought of anything she'd done as remotely "fun." "So you let your brothers work the ranch?"

If he sensed her disapproval, he didn't show it. Or no longer cared. "They love it."

She asked him the question that had flitted about in her mind since she'd arrived. "You all live together. Why?"

"We're family," he said simply. Though he remained alert, he again relaxed. "The house and the land are mine legally, but that doesn't mean anything. We work it together."

"You mean, they work it. You-" She gestured around her. "You do what's easier."

Still smiling, he leaned against the nearest bench, crossing his booted feet. "Whatever," he drawled.

That cavalier attitude annoyed her, especially since she had a feeling he was putting it on for her benefit. Had her lie annoyed him or the interruption of his work? She had a feeling it was the former. "Do you do that on purpose?"

"Do what?"

"Put on that good-old-boy act."

"How do you know it's an act?"

Oh, yeah. She'd annoyed him. He was watching her intently now. She frowned and dropped her gaze from his. There was only one problem with that. Her eyes then settled on other parts of him; like those strong, broad shoulders stretching his flannel shirt in interesting ways across his chest, or those snug, faded jeans that fit his long, lean legs so nicely. Her frown deepened when she raised her gaze back to his and realized she'd been blatantly staring, and that he was fully enjoying the fact.

Which didn't explain the funny way her breath had caught in her throat. She couldn't be… No. There was absolutely no way that she was experiencing lust.

At the thought, a pain erupted in her belly so fast and so sharp, she couldn't contain her small gasp. Cam straightened immediately and was by her side before she could blink.

"What is it?"

Just as quickly, the pain passed. She wouldn't have felt it at all, except that she hadn't taken her pills last night or this morning. "Nothing." She pulled her shoulders back and yanked on the door. "Just nothing."

He reached around her to help. "It's something," he insisted.

"I'm fine, just fine. Really. And I've got work." She walked out into the bright, crisp October day. The blue, open Colorado sky loomed overhead, blending into a picture-perfect hilly landscape. In the distance, Aspen trees tossed in the wind, their round, flat leaves creating a unique rustling sound.

He waited until she'd gotten a few steps away. "Don't work too hard."

She stopped and turned. "That's an unusual thing for an employer to say to an employee."

"Things are different here than wherever you came from."

"That's the truth." How surprised he'd be to know she'd headed a team of five of the world's most brilliant geologists, some twice her age, leading them to the exciting discovery of a system of volcano-and-earthquake prediction and prevention. How shocked he'd be to know that at least two of them were dead because of that discovery. Not to mention the thousands who had been killed in the earthquake that had been purposely created as a test.

"Maybe someday you'll tell me about it," he said seriously.

Haley thought about how good it would feel to tell someone about the horror her life had become. But trust didn't come easily for her in the best of times, and certainly not now.

"Haley?" He took one step toward her. "I'm a good listener."

She shook her head and found herself, for the second time that day, inexplicably close to tears. Far too close, she realized, as her next breath shuddered through her. "I've got work" was all she could manage as she turned and ran the entire way to the big house.

Cam watched her go, standing there for a long moment before turning back to the barn. That had been the strangest interaction he'd ever had. She'd slammed into his studio, and, for a moment, he couldn't believe his luck. It had been so long since he'd let a woman get to him, it had taken him a minute or two to see the terror in her eyes.

And when he had, it had stirred something deep within. Standing there now, with the light wind sliding over him, he had to admit that those feelings had been fiercely protective. Yes, he always felt that way about anyone or anything in pain or in need, but this had been different.

Then she'd lied and everything inside him had gone cold. He knew nothing about Haley, and he'd do well to remember that. All he felt for her was empathy. No different from when he'd given that old cowboy, Joe, a job for the winter because he had nowhere else to go. No different from when he'd taken Max in. No different at all.